


the long sirens

by chartreuser



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-04-14 06:49:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4554816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chartreuser/pseuds/chartreuser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You look into his eyes; he's grieving for someone. It might have just been you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a collection of poetry and scattered prose about stucky I've written thrown in here! I mean, what do people do after they obsessively read fanfiction? Write poetry, of course.

i. at the back of your mind is the  
conscious blinking of someone else’s  
eyes. you think they tried to  
program you to be broken; a  
seamless fixture of breathing enough  
to function but rotten to the   
point of still listening. then  you obey  
them (there is no  alternative. that,  
they do not let you  forget).

ii. you hear the thoughts that aren’t  your own and wonder: at which  stage do they put you out of  commission?

iii. the winter soldier is not   
in working order anymore. instead   
of sending someone in for reparation:  
 he wants to fix you. seats you  in a  
chair and gives you space; waiting for something that  will bring Bucky back,  
but you’re not sure if anything can.

iv. you let him try; you try and let him.  
sometimes details are hard to remember  
when your brain is scraped raw and you’re  
not sure if your memories are yours  
anymore, so you let this slide. 

v. you almost let Steve Rogers slide.

vi. they say that being alive is   
a blessing. you haven’t been  around  
enough to know that,  but you think you might agree when he finally sees you mend.


	2. Chapter 2

i think it was in between the times  
you were trying to be someone else.  
maybe it was my fault that I’d never  
told you what it was, hearing a  
different voice, having another man.  
like gaping spaces filling up our  
bathtubs in place of people, like  
painting over the new road with a  
brighter colour. i didn’t know how to  
tell you about that body in my bed,  
that i’d tried to think his hands were  
yours. they want me to give up your  
world but i won’t. i’d only wanted it to  
appear in the same eyes, unchanged  
flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

if it weren’t for the anger running  
down his spine: you might not have  
even known. could have dismissed  
this slow uncurling of his fists as  
something else: like misery, like  
the slow walk from forgiveness to  
acceptance. just because it was  
the right thing to do didn’t mean   
that he had to let it wash him over,  
let them pull him into their tide.  
that it was his responsibility to  
stay charitable, even though what  
they’d done to him was everything  
but; even if the only thing the both   
of you could have done was run.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a poetry blog! ](ahthur.tumblr.com)


End file.
